Crusader: Fireborn
by Icewyche
Summary: A child born in fire. A path forged in tragedy. Destiny begins to unfold, and a champion will rise from the ashes. Based on the "Arusian Crusade" series by Aqua Lion.
1. Prologue: First Breath

**Crusader: Fireborn**

By Icewyche

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><p><em>A.N.: Based on the "Arusian Crusade" series by Aqua Lion. Which is incredibly meta, when you think about it.<em>

_A big, big thank-you to Aqua Lion, who was not only gracious enough to let me play in the AC sandbox, but also provided details, reviews, and lots of encouragement and anticipatory squees. Shout-outs also go to the members of Snarktron Force – Aqua Lion, Cheetoy, Raelee514, and SnyperLady – for their support, humor, plot bunnies, and late-night Twitter snarkfests that kept me up and laughing long after I should have gone to bed like a responsible adult. Rock on with your bad selves. _

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><p><strong>Prologue: First Breath<strong>

They hadn't planned on another child. Hadn't even wanted one, really; life on Valkan VI was, while not exactly hardscrabble, not luxurious either, and they already had three others. More than enough mouths to feed. But things happened, and one night they just weren't careful, and that was that.

The baby was born in high summer, during a fierce heat wave. The grass was brown and crackled underfoot, the rivers and lakes were lower than anyone could ever remember them being, and there were warnings of brush fires. Not the most auspicious time to welcome a new life, but this child didn't seem to care. It was determined to be born; the midwife would later say she'd never seen a child so eager to enter the world. And so the baby boy arrived almost before anyone had time to realize what was happening, his first breath a fierce howl of what seemed almost like...impatience. As if he had things to do, things that didn't include being small and weak and helpless. He yelled as he was cleaned off, and continued yelling as the midwife wrapped him in a blanket and gave him to his mother.

The mother gazed tenderly down at the tiny, red-faced, indignant bundle in her arms. _Another __son._ Well, that was all for the good – she loved her one daughter, but a brace of strong sons was a good thing to have. And she knew just what to name him, too...she'd been reading a book of ancient tales about a king named Arthur and a round table and brave knights. "Lancelot," she murmured. "I want to name him Lancelot."

The father rolled his eyes good-naturedly; he was used to his wife by now. She was a practical woman for the most part, but sometimes she was given to flights of romantic fantasy, especially when it involved her precious books. "For heaven's sakes, woman," he protested affectionately. " 'Lancelot'? Do you want the boy to be teased for the rest of his life?" She looked mildly crestfallen, so he added, "We'll call him Lance. Lance Charles, after my grandfather. Does that suit you?"

She nodded. "Lance Charles McClain. It's got a good sound to it." As if he'd understood her, the infant stopped screaming and looked up at his mother. His eyes were deep blue, as all babies' eyes were, but she knew they'd turn to brown soon enough. And there was almost an _intelligence_ to his gaze, something she hadn't seen in any of her others when they were born. _Yes..._this one would be _special._ She just knew it. She didn't particularly believe in signs or portents, but somehow she knew this baby was destined for great things. How could he not be, named after a knight of legend?

It wasn't until later that she heard. As she'd been birthing her son, a fire had started at the other end of the village. No one really knew how; perhaps just a careless spark. But the parched grasses had eagerly seized that spark, and by the time it was over three houses had burned to the ground. None of their occupants had survived. Nothing left but ashes.

There were those who would say such a thing was an ill omen – a tragedy at what should have been a time of joy, such terrible death just as a new life came into the world. But not her.

After all, she didn't believe in omens.


	2. Chapter One: The Sky Is Falling

**Crusader: Fireborn**

By Icewyche

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><p><em>A.N.: "Harry" is actually named for Harry Dresden of the Dresden Files. Not that <em>other_ wizard named Harry._

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Sky Is Falling<strong>

The little boy opened his eyes, gazing wide-eyed into the darkness. Not in fear, but in anticipation. When he was satisfied that the house was quiet, he sat up and climbed silently out of bed, making his way to the door as lightly as a cat. He was used to this by now, even knew exactly which creaky floorboard to avoid. With a little smile of triumph, he reached for the doorknob.

"Lance? Where are you going?"

He frowned...apparently he hadn't been _that_ quiet after all. Suppressing an annoyed sigh, he turned around to see his brother Harry watching him from the other bed, big brown eyes so like his own peering owlishly from the nest of blankets. "Shhh!" he whispered fiercely. "I'm just going outside."

"Mama and Papa won't like it," Harry whispered back; Lance was grateful that his older brother at least had the sense to keep his voice down.

"They won't know," Lance replied impatiently. "Why don't you come with me? It's fun."

Harry shook his head. "It's dark out."

"Of course it's _dark_, dummy. How else could you see the stars if it wasn't?" Lance said reasonably. Harry didn't seem convinced, and Lance scowled. He didn't want to be in here arguing with his brother, not when the stars were waiting for him. "Fine. Stay here, then. But you don't know what you're missing."

Harry snuggled deeper into his bed, not at all persuaded. "You're going to get in a lot of trouble one of these days, Lance Charles McClain," he said. Lance scoffed quietly at that and slipped out of their room.

_Lance Charles McClain_. He hated it when people called him that, because it usually meant they were exasperated with him. Unless, of course, it was his brothers or his sister; they did it just to bug him.

_It's dark out_, Lance mocked silently to himself as he moved through the sleeping house, shaking his head at Harry's wimpishness. Hard to believe he'd been named after a _wizard_...after all, wizards were supposed to be strong and wise, and Harry was neither. Maybe Mama should have named him something else. Mama had named all of them after characters in books, or so she'd told them; Harry had been named for a mighty wizard who had a big dog and a talking skull, although for the life of him Lance couldn't imagine _their _Harry with either one. Dogs scared him, and if he saw a skull – talking or not – he'd probably run away from it screaming, even though he was ten years old already and supposed to be braver than that.

Just across the hall from them was their oldest brother Tom; Mama had named him after a boy who had been wily and clever and had had lots of exciting adventures. Tom had just turned fifteen, too old to be sharing a room with his two little brothers. (Which suited Lance and Harry just fine, because Tom _snored._) He wasn't especially wily or clever, at least not as far as Lance was concerned, and didn't seem particularly interested in adventures either. What he _was_ interested in was girls.

Lance wrinkled his nose at the thought. What was so interesting about _girls_, anyway? They giggled too much and they smelled funny and they never wanted to do fun things like climb trees or run because they hated to get dirty. They liked to play tickle, though – he'd caught Tom and Maryellen Shaw playing tickle behind the Shaws' barn once, and Maryellen seemed to be enjoying it. Lance couldn't understand why, although maybe it had something to do with the fact that Tom wasn't sitting on _her_ the way he did on Lance. Maybe that was just as well, because Maryellen wasn't as small or as quick as Lance was, and she wouldn't have been able to wriggle out from under him and escape the way Lance always did.

He passed his sister Juliet's room. Juliet was twelve, almost thirteen, and had been named after a girl in a play who died for love or something...Lance wasn't really sure of the details. Their little mother hen, Mama and Papa called her, and that name seemed to fit her better since Juliet was always fussing over her two little brothers and herding them about. Juliet took her responsibility as the only girl in the family seriously. Juliet took most things seriously. Lance couldn't imagine their Juliet ever dying for love or anything else – she was much too practical for that.

Then there was him – "my surprise baby", Mama called him. She'd named him after a courageous and loyal knight, although Papa had insisted they shorten his name to Lance. Which was okay..."Lancelot" sounded kind of sissyish anyway. He liked the name he had better. That didn't mean he wasn't determined to live up to that first name, though...he was only eight, but he prided himself on being braver than his brothers. Neither of _them_ were willing to sneak out of the house at night to watch the stars. He was faster than them, too; he could even outrun Tom. Not that _that_ was hard, because Tom was a big, clumsy ox of a boy, but still.

Mama and Papa slept at the far end of the hall; he wasn't too worried about waking them unless he was really noisy, but it never hurt to be careful. Besides, Papa would be grouchy if anybody woke him up before morning. When Papa got grouchy it was serious business, especially since it happened so rarely. Papa and Mama both smiled and laughed a lot, which was why so many other people in the village liked them. Of course, that wasn't the _only_ reason people liked them...they also liked them because Mama taught kids how to read and write and because Papa was good at building things. Nobody else in the whole village was as good at building things as his Papa, Lance thought proudly. He'd even built most of their house, making it bigger to fit his family. Papa could build _anything._

Lance made his way quickly through the rest of the house, heading straight for the back door. He paused when he reached it, listening intently to make sure nobody had heard him, but there was nothing but silence. Smiling happily to himself, he stealthily eased the door open and slipped outside. Just a little distance across the porch – had to be careful here, there was another creaky board – and down the back steps, and then he was running lightly across the yard towards the lake that sat behind their house. The night air felt cool and soft against his skin; the lake shimmered and the stars twinkled overhead as if they were glad to see him. He was glad to see them, too.

Giggling quietly, Lance flopped down into the grass by the lake. It was a still spring night, the best kind because the waters of the lake were almost perfectly smooth, reflecting the stars like a mirror. He could watch them all night, he thought happily. Had to be careful, though...one time he'd watched the stars too long, and the next morning everyone had been all worried and running around because he wasn't in his bed and nobody could find him. Tom had finally found him curled up in the grass by the lake, sound asleep. Papa had beaten him for that – not hard, but enough to let Lance know that he meant business – but that hadn't hurt near as much as seeing how scared Mama was. Lance had tried to be good after that, and he _had_ been for a while, but the call of the stars was just too much to resist. So he'd started sneaking out again, and now here he was.

Propping his chin in his hands, Lance stared intently into the water, silently counting the number of glittering dots in the glassy surface. When he'd finished he looked up, not at all surprised to find that he'd missed quite a few. He always did. That was what made it so much fun, really, finding the difference between what he could see in the lake and what was actually out there.

He rolled onto his back, gazing raptly up at the diamond-dusted sky. So many stars, and there were even more out there, farther away than he could see. There was a whole big _galaxy_ beyond Valkan VI, with hundreds of different stars and planets and people. Lance wondered what they were like. Valkan VI wasn't a big planet, and only a small portion of its surface was actually settled – "at least for now," Papa had said once. Were other worlds bigger? Did they have trees or lakes or lots of big buildings? Were there dangerous animals? What did the people look like – were they tall or short or different colors? What did they do for fun? Maybe someday he'd get to meet some of them and see those other worlds. Maybe. But for now, he was happy right where he was...lying in the grass listening to the sounds of insects and night birds, with the stars above him and his family not far away.

Lance lost track of how long he lay by the lake, watching the stars drift serenely through the heavens. But eventually he noticed that his eyelids were getting heavy...he'd probably been out here a lot longer than he should. Time to go in. He sighed and reluctantly sat up, but he couldn't resist one last look upward.

_Wait..._He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Were the stars..._moving?_ He sat there openmouthed, not understanding what he was seeing as one star, then another, and then another shifted and detached from the night sky and then..._fell_. He stared as the stars plunged groundward, becoming bigger and brighter and then...

The first one hit with a huge _boom_ and a burst of light that nearly blinded him. The ground shook beneath Lance, knocking him onto his side in the grass. He lay there stunned, watching helplessly as more stars hit – _boomboomboom_ until his ears were ringing and the night sky became as bright as the middle of the day. There was a strange high-pitched sound coming from somewhere, and he finally realized that it was the sound of people screaming. _Mama! Papa!_ That jolted him out of his trance and he scrambled frantically to his feet, slipping on the grass as he ran for the house. _I have to get to them!_

A huge fireball landed in front of him with a _whumpf_. A giant's invisible fist smashed him to the ground, and for a moment there was nothing but white light and scorching heat and something heavy sitting on his chest – he couldn't even draw breath enough to scream. When his senses cleared, the way to the house had been replaced by a wall of fire taller than he was...and it was headed right for him. He could see it moving over the grass, could feel its burning fingers reaching for him, could smell his hair and clothes starting to smolder.

Lance stopped thinking. Pure visceral instinct took over and his world narrowed to nothing but _run_. He turned and darted back the way he'd come, heading straight for the lake. When he reached its bank he didn't even hesitate, but flung himself into the water at full speed.

The lake was icy cold, a shock after the terrible heat of the fire. It stabbed into him like a hundred knives; Lance unthinkingly opened his mouth to scream and got a mouthful of frigid, muddy-tasting water. He surfaced awkwardly, flailing and choking and coughing, treading water out of sheer survival instinct. What was he going to do now? The water was so cold it was making his arms and legs not work right, but he couldn't get out either, not when everything around him was fire. He kept on treading water until he couldn't anymore, and then he just lay back and let the water hold him up.

He didn't know how long he floated there, his mind drifting along with his body. The stars had stopped falling but the sky still glowed orange and red and yellow, and he gazed up at it with dull, unfocused eyes. Somewhere in the very back of his mind he knew he should probably be afraid, or sad, or something, but he just couldn't muster the energy. Even the chill of the water didn't really hurt anymore...it was just _there_. He was so sleepy... The colors in the sky shifted and swirled, and he wondered vaguely if he could touch them. His hand lifted, reaching weakly for those beautiful dancing flames.

Somebody shouted, and Lance heard splashing. Then a man dressed like a soldier was suddenly beside him; Lance jolted in surprise and the abrupt movement sent him under the water. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him out, coughing and sputtering, and then he was being cradled against an armored chest and carried to shore. There was more yelling – something about "alive" and "help over here". The soldier set him carefully on the ground as more soldiers appeared around him. Somebody wrapped him in something that was thin and crinkly, like the stuff Mama wrapped food in to keep it from going bad. It seemed silly, but it also made him feel warmer and the fog started to clear from his head a little bit. A light shone in his eyes, making him flinch. All the soldiers seemed to be talking at once and he couldn't make any sense of it...he caught words like "impact zone" and "hypothermia" and "evac", but they didn't mean anything to him. He was tired and still kind of cold and he wanted to go back to bed. He didn't want to make Papa angry at him for staying out so late. Where _were_ Mama and Papa, anyway? Why hadn't _they_ come to find him instead of these strangers?

The soldier who'd pulled him from the water gently lifted Lance, and as he did Lance found himself looking over the man's shoulder at his house. Except...there _was_ no house anymore. There was nothing but fire. The big tree he liked to climb on even though it made Juliet nervous, the porch where Papa and his friends played cards, the yard he and his siblings had played in, the rooms where they'd all been sleeping when the stars came down...it was all gone, vanished in the inferno. And it had taken his family with it.

A howl like a wounded animal's tore its way out of his throat and he began kicking and punching, lashing out at everyone and no one with a strength and fury he didn't even know he had. He felt the soldier's arms tighten around him so that he couldn't get away, heard the man yell about something called a "medic". Lance didn't know what that was and he didn't care. He had to get away from these people. He had to find his family.

Something jabbed his arm, making him scream from the sudden pain. The strength drained from his body, leaving him as limp as one of Juliet's rag dolls. He tried to struggle anyway, but his arms and legs wouldn't do what he wanted them to and all he could manage was a weak moan of frustration. He could vaguely hear the strangers saying something, but they sounded far away now and he was so very tired. Strong arms lifted him and carried him off, and Lance managed to keep his heavy eyelids open long enough to look back one last time at what had once been his home. What had become his family's funeral pyre.

They were all gone now. And he was alone.

Then the fire went away, and everything went dark.


	3. Chapter Two: Sole Survivor

**Crusader: Fireborn**

By Icewyche

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><p><em>A.N.: I don't own Voltron in any way, shape, or form. Which I'm pretty sure you all know already, but this is a Thing We Must Do. You know how it is.<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Sole Survivor<strong>

Lance woke slowly, feeling as if he were swimming upward through mud. The first thing he realized was that he was lying in a bed, and for a moment he wondered if maybe he was having a really bad dream. But this didn't feel like his bed; it was harder and the sheets weren't as soft. It smelled funny, too, an odd sharpish smell that reminded him of that time he'd hurt his arm falling out of a tree and had to go see the doctor. He didn't like that smell.

The next thing he realized was that he hurt. His face and his arms felt raw, hot, and sensitive, as if he'd been out in the sun too long. The rest of his body hurt too, so many dull aches that he couldn't quite tell where they all were. His head hurt the worst, though, pounding like something was thumping on it from the inside. With a little time and a lot of effort he was able to get his eyes open, only to slam them shut again as bright light made his head thump even more. He waited until it got better, then slowly eased his eyes open just a little bit. When they'd adjusted, he opened them all the way.

He was in a small room that he'd never seen before. It didn't have any windows and the walls were bright white; now that his eyes were okay he could see that it had been the walls that had made his head pound, not the lights which were kind of dim. There was hardly any furniture, just the bed, a table, and a chair. He turned his head a little bit and saw a panel with lots of buttons and lights built into the wall just to the side of his bed. It didn't make any sense. Where _was_ he? Why was he here? His head swam for a moment, then bits and pieces separated themselves from the confusion and fell into place. The stars. The lake. The soldiers.

_The fire._

Memory rushed back, along with a wave of pain that left Lance breathless. His home was gone, swallowed up in that fierce blaze. And his family...had any of them managed to get out? They'd be here with him if they had, wouldn't they? Unless...maybe they were hurt too. There had been a lot of fire – maybe they were hurt too bad to come see him. Maybe they were in another room and didn't even know he was here – after all, nobody except Harry knew he'd even snuck out of the house. They were probably all alone and scared in this strange place. Well then, he thought, he'd go and find them, and then they wouldn't be scared anymore. He sat up quickly, planning to climb out of bed, but all of a sudden he got really dizzy and he decided that maybe he should lie down for just a little bit longer.

He heard voices and footsteps outside his door, and it sounded like they were getting closer. Some instinct told Lance to close his eyes and pretend to still be asleep; he had a feeling they were talking about him, and if they saw he was awake they'd probably stop talking. Grownups did that. Anyway, he was good at pretending to be asleep – he'd done it so many times before.

The door opened with a faint _hiss_, and there were footsteps. "So what do we have here?" a man's voice said. It was low, gruff – Papa would have described it as "no nonsense". He sounded impatient, like he would rather be doing something else.

"Unidentified male juvenile," a woman replied. She too kept her voice down, and her words were clipped and precise. "Human. Looks to be between seven and ten years of age. Injuries are fairly minor – cuts and bruises, first- and mild second-degree burns. No apparent head trauma. He was lethargic and suffering from early-stage hypothermia when we pulled him out of the lake, but seemed to recover fairly quickly; being in the water during the bombardment probably saved his life. He's under sedation right now – we had to trank him."

"You used a tranquilizer on a child?" The man didn't sound outraged or even unhappy, Lance thought, just...curious.

"No disrespect, sir, but you weren't there," a third voice spoke up. It sounded familiar; Lance recognized it as the soldier who'd pulled him out of the water. "The kid went hysterical when he saw the village burning. If she hadn't knocked him out, he could have hurt himself fighting us."

"Hmm." If voices could shrug, that was what the first man's voice did. "Any other survivors?"

"We've got teams at each of the impact zones now checking, but it doesn't look good," the soldier said. "Four settlements hit, and every single one burned to the ground...we could be talking well over two thousand casualties. Those Drule bastards slammed them hard – not a sign of life so far."

_Drool?_ Lance was confused. "Drool" was something dogs and little babies did; how could _that_ be enough to destroy his home? _Fire_ had taken everything away from him, not "drool". Then he realized that the soldier had said _four_ settlements, not just one – settlement was just a big word for "village", so that meant four villages. And two thousand casualties...he didn't know what a "casualty" was, but two thousand was a big number and the way the soldier said it made it sound really bad. Lance didn't know what these "Drool" things were, but he was pretty sure he didn't like them.

The first man sighed. "So it looks like the sole survivor of the Valkan VI colony is a child, and I'm guessing he won't have any relatives on Earth, either. Wonderful. Another orphan for the Alliance to deal with, courtesy of the Fourth Kingdom. Well, I suppose I should go get the paperwork started." The door hissed again, and one set of footsteps left. Only one, though, which meant the other two were still there. Lance stayed still, careful not to let them know he was awake and listening.

After a moment, the soldier sighed. "Goddamn Drules. It's not bad enough they have to try and get their greedy claws on every planet they can reach, but to slaughter civilians and leave kids without families..."

Now it was the woman's turn to have a shruggy voice. "You should be used to this by now, Rick. The sons of bitches were making a point, and they didn't care who was in the way. This isn't the last orphan we're going to see, or the last settlement that's going to be reduced to ashes." She sounded tired.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, but you can't let it get to you, either. War is hell, and all that jazz. Come on, let's go get philosophical somewhere else – don't want to wake the kid." Another hiss, and their footsteps faded away. Then there was nothing but quiet.

Lance waited until everything was completely silent again before he opened his eyes. He'd heard more than he bargained on; he didn't understand all of it, but what he did understand sounded bad. Four settlements burned...Lance thought about the villages near his own, the buildings, all the people he'd seen when his family visited them. The thought that they could all be just _gone_ didn't make any sense. And then there were the new words he'd heard – "casualties" and "Drule". He still wasn't completely sure what they meant, although it sounded like one was responsible for the other. But out of everything he'd overheard, one word stood out.

_Orphan._ He knew _that_ word. He knew exactly what it meant. And he knew that now it applied to _him_.

His eyes filled with tears, and he fought to keep them back – after all, he was supposed to be brave and strong, wasn't he? Mama called him her "brave little knight", and brave knights didn't cry no matter how bad they felt. But...Mama wasn't here. Mama would never be here again. And he wasn't a knight, just a scared, tired, hurting little boy whose world had been destroyed around him when the stars fell out of the sky. Nobody cared about whether he was brave or not. There was nobody _left_ to care.

Tears continued to slide down his face long after he fell asleep.

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><p>The next time Lance opened his eyes, somebody different was sitting by his bed. The new person was a man with blondish hair, and he wore a uniform that Lance had never seen before. There was a name tag on the left side of his shirt; it read HANSEN. Hansen was reading something on a datapad, but he looked up and smiled when he saw that Lance was awake. "Hey, little guy," he said. "How you feeling?"<p>

Lance tried to answer, but his throat hurt and all that came out was a croak. Hansen quickly set the datapad down and helped Lance sit up, then offered him a cup with a straw in it; Lance sipped it suspiciously and was relieved to find out it was only water. It tasted a little funny, almost like metal, but he was so thirsty he didn't really care. When he was done, Hansen set the cup aside and smiled reassuringly. "You hungry? I can see about getting you something to eat."

He sounded like he was trying just a little too hard to be cheerful, and Lance wanted to tell him to stop. But his stomach growled and he realized with surprise that he really _was_ hungry. He nodded silently; Hansen patted him gently on the shoulder with another smile and a "Be right back."

The tray Hansen brought back didn't look like any kind of food Lance had ever seen. It looked...fake, kind of like the plastic food Juliet had given her dolls when she'd had parties for them. He started to poke at it with a finger to see if it was real, but remembered his manners at the last moment and instead prodded the "food" with the fork Hansen had brought, frowning dubiously at it.

Hansen thought that was funny. "Yeah, I think everybody has that reaction to MREs at first," he chuckled. Lance had no idea what "emmarees" were, but if it was this weird thing in front of him, he didn't think he'd like them much. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks," Hansen went on. "I eat 'em all the time and I'm perfectly okay." Lance wasn't entirely convinced, but he took a tentative bite. The "emmaree" wasn't _bad_, not really, but it wasn't all that great either – it tasted about as fake as it looked. But he was hungry, and before he knew it he'd finished it all. "Thank you," he murmured in a tiny voice.

"You're welcome," Hansen told him. "Look, the commander asked me to let him know as soon as you were awake; you feel up for some company?" Lance wanted to say no – he didn't really want to see _anyone_ – but as much as he wanted to be left alone he also wanted answers. So he nodded hesitantly, hoping this "commander" was at least a nice person. Hansen patted his shoulder again and pressed a button on the wall behind Lance's bed. "Yeah, Sam? It's Matt," he said when a woman's voice answered. "Could you tell Commander Ellison that our young guest will see him now? Thanks." He released the button and winked at Lance. "We'll make the old man think you kept him waiting...maybe it'll knock some of the starch out of him, huh?" Lance couldn't help a little giggle, and Hansen grinned at him. "That's the spirit. What's your name?"

"Lance," came the small reply.

"Hi, Lance. I'm Matt." He gravely offered a hand, smiling as Lance shook it with all the dignity of a grownup. "Nice to meet you, although I'm sure we'd both like it more under better circumstances. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Lance said slowly. It was the truth; he still felt sunburned and kind of sore, but at least his head didn't hurt anymore. He tried not to think about the _other_ pain he was feeling, the dull ache that sat in the middle of his chest like a big rock. Hansen..._Matt _couldn't help him with that. Nobody could.

Matt gave him a sympathetic little smile, as if he knew what Lance was thinking. "Look, I know this has got to be rough for you – you've been through a lot. But you don't need to worry; you're safe now and we're going to take good care of you." Before Lance could even ask who "we" was, there was a sharp knock at the door. The person on the other side didn't even wait for a reply before opening it and striding into the room.

Lance's first glimpse of Commander Ellison dashed any hopes that the man would be a nice person. He was tall and rawboned, with close-cropped silver hair and cold gray eyes that skimmed over Lance without any warmth or sympathy whatsoever; in fact, it looked as if he really wished Lance weren't even there. "Hello, son. I'm Commander Ellison," he announced crisply, and Lance recognized the gruff voice immediately. The commander's stony eyes flicked to Matt, who'd jumped up at the knock and now stood at attention by Lance's bedside. "You can go, Sergeant Hansen."

"Respectfully, sir, I'd like to stay, if it's all right with Lance," Matt said quietly. Lance nodded gratefully; he didn't want to be alone with this man.

The commander raised an eyebrow. "Lance, is it? Fine." His attention turned back to Lance, who had to fight not to quail beneath that chilly, assessing gaze. "What's your name, son? Your full name."

Lance sat up straighter and squared his thin shoulders, meeting the commander's stare head-on. Already he didn't like this man, and he wasn't going to let the commander see how scared and alone he really felt. "Lance," he said, in a voice that surprised even himself with its firmness. "Lance Charles McClain. And I'm eight years old," he added, knowing the commander would ask and not wanting to give this unpleasant man the upper hand. So he decided to turn the tables and ask the questions himself. "Where am I? What happened?" he demanded.

A thin, humorless smile crossed Commander Ellison's lips. "Well, you've got some backbone, at least. You'll need it. To answer your first question, you're on board the Alliance cruiser _Tarrant._ We're currently stationed in the Valkan system, but we'll be outbound for Earth as soon as we get clearance."

Lance frowned. "Outbound"...didn't that mean "leaving"? And _Earth_? He knew what Earth was, of course...a blue planet far, far away. The people of Valkan VI had come from there a long time ago; that was why they called it a "colony". But... "Why are we leaving?" he asked. "I don't want to go to Earth."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, son. You can't stay on Valkan VI."

"Why not?" Lance argued. "It's my home!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Matt shift uncomfortably, as if he wanted to say something but didn't dare. Not that Lance would have listened – he was too angry at this cold, harsh man who told him he couldn't go home. He knew that the falling stars and the fire had been a bad thing for his village, but there had to be _something_ left, didn't there? There _had_ to be some other people left, somebody he knew. "What about the others? Are you just going to take them away, too?"

"Lance," Matt murmured warningly. "I'm sorry, sir, I haven't had a chance to tell him – "

Commander Ellison silenced Matt with a look. "Then it's best he finds out now." He turned that emotionless gaze on Lance again, and Lance got a weird squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach – whatever the man was about to say, Lance knew it was going to be bad. "There _are_ no others," the commander said without preamble. Lance's heart sank; he wanted to clamp his hands over his ears to block out the sound of that cold voice, but found himself unable to move as Commander Ellison continued, "All four of the Valkan VI settlements were destroyed in the Drule bombings; no one but you made it out alive."

"That's not true," Lance whispered from between stiff lips. It _couldn__'__t_ be...

"Unfortunately it's very true, son. The Valkan VI colony simply doesn't exist anymore; you're all that's left. Do you have any relatives on Earth that you know of? Or anywhere else?" Lance shook his head numbly. "Then I suppose that makes you a ward of the Alliance. Once we reach Earth they'll figure out what to do with you, but until then you're under my guardianship." He leveled a piercing stare on Lance. "I realize this is a difficult time for you, but I won't have you turning this ship upside down. This is a military unit, not a babysitting service. Do you understand me?"

"Sir, please," Matt protested. "He's just a kid – he's lost his family, his home – "

"And over twenty-two hundred people – citizens of the Alliance – have lost their _lives_, Sergeant," Commander Ellison replied sharply. "He's the lucky one here, and the sooner he realizes that the better."

_Lucky._ How could they say that? _Lucky_ was a good thing, but there was nothing good about what had happened. He wasn't _lucky_, and he hated both of them for thinking he was. "Go away," he choked.

Both men turned to look at him, Matt surprised, the commander offended. "What did you say?" Commander Ellison demanded.

"Go away," Lance repeated, his shock giving way to white-hot rage. "Get out of my room! Leave me alone! I _hate_ you!" He grabbed the tray that was still sitting on his bedside table and hurled it as hard as he could in the commander's direction, viciously pleased when a leftover bit of "emmaree" left a smear on the man's pristine uniform. "_GO __AWAY!_" he screamed.

The commander gave him one last glare, then turned on his heel and stalked out, his footsteps clicking sharply on the metal floor. Matt laid a hand on Lance's shoulder, his eyes sad. Lance jerked out of his grasp and flopped onto his side, his back to Matt, pulling the sheets up around his face. He didn't want to hear anything. He didn't even want to look at Matt. After a moment the door hissed, and Lance was alone.

The fury that had briefly given him strength drained away in the oppressive silence, leaving him numb and cold. He couldn't move, and suddenly he didn't care if he never moved again.

_Gone._ Everything was gone. His family. His friends. His home. His whole life. He stared unseeing at the blank wall in front of him, waiting for the tears to start. And when they didn't, he felt something deep inside him shatter into a million tiny pieces. He'd lost so much, but he'd thought he'd at least be able to cry for his family.

Now he didn't even have that.

* * *

><p>Time stopped meaning anything to Lance. He spent most of his time sleeping; at least when he was asleep he didn't have to deal with the huge, empty hole inside him. When he wasn't asleep he just stayed in his bed, wrapped in a numb haze. Matt came by a lot, trying to talk to him, trying to get him to eat, just trying to bring him out of it. Lance ignored him and stared dully at the wall. He didn't care about food. He didn't care about Matt. He just wanted everything to go away.<p>

Once, when he was in that twilight place between sleep and wakefulness, he thought he felt an odd jolt. It felt as if somebody had bumped his bed, but he was the only person in the room. It was gone quickly, though, and it was so mild it didn't even wake him up all the way. He dismissed it and retreated back into sleep.

But on one of Matt's visits, Lance found himself actually looking at the man, the haze starting to pull back from his mind. Something was nagging at him, and before he realized it he'd croaked out, "When are we leaving?"

Matt looked startled. "What?"

"The commander said – " the words were halting, in a voice rusty from disuse " – that we'd be leaving for Earth, but we're just sitting here. When are we leaving?"

"Lance..." Matt blinked, hesitating as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. Then he sighed. "Aw, buddy. I forget you're probably new to space travel. Lance...we left Valkan VI two days ago."

Now it was Lance's turn to blink. Two _days?_ "But...but...I never got to see my home again," he stammered weakly. "I – I never got to say goodbye."

"You wouldn't have wanted to see it, Lance. You wouldn't have wanted to remember it that way," Matt replied sadly. "You were already in bad shape – we couldn't have put you through that. Plus the Alliance needs us, so we couldn't have stayed any longer. We're headed for Earth now; should get there in about a week."

Lance stared openmouthed at Matt. The numbness was fading even more, leaving a tangle of confused emotions in its wake. Sadness, because he hadn't had the chance to see his homeworld one last time. Anger, because nobody had even asked him if he'd wanted to. And...something else.

They were on their way to Earth already? How was that even possible? They weren't moving, he couldn't feel them moving. And all of a sudden, he wanted to know why. Wanted to know _how_.

Lance had always been a curious child...sometimes _too_ curious, according to Mama and Papa. But now that curiosity was a lifeline, and he seized it with both hands – anything to keep himself from tumbling back into that black, cold fog of despair. Anything to keep from thinking about what he'd lost, what had been so cruelly taken away from him. "How...how are we doing that?" he asked. "We're not moving."

"Well, we are, it's just that you can't tell," Matt said. "We're in what's called extradimensional space now, and that's one of the weird things about it – we're moving but it never feels like it."

_Extradimensional._ He was just learning all _kinds_ of new words on this trip. "What's extra...dimin...shunnal?"

"Extradimensional. It means we're outside of what we know as normal space. It lets us go a lot faster than we could in realspace – otherwise it would probably take months if not years to get where we were going. You'd be all grown up by the time we got to Earth."

"But how does it _work?_" Lance insisted.

Matt chuckled. "Honestly, I'm not even sure. It's way beyond me – I just go along for the ride. But I'll tell you what," he added. "You haven't eaten since you first got here, and a lot of us have been worried about you. If you'll eat something, I'll take you to the bridge and you can ask the pilot how all this works – maybe she can explain it to you better than I can. Sound like a plan?"

Lance eyed him a bit dubiously, but in the end curiosity won out over skepticism and he nodded. Matt grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go scare up some lunch. You just sit tight and think about all the stuff you want to ask the pilot."

Matt returned quickly with a tray and a bundle of folded cloth. Lance braced himself inwardly as Matt set the tray on his lap, expecting more of those nasty "emmaree" things, but to his surprise the stuff looked and even smelled like actual food. "It's because we're in transit now," Matt explained, seeing his look. "Every so often our mess crew has to actually work for a living. Come on now, eat up, but slowly. You don't want to make yourself sick."

Lance did as he was told, although inwardly he was squirming with impatience to get to the bridge – which he guessed wasn't the same thing he thought of as a "bridge" – and find answers to some of the questions that were swirling around in his head. When he'd finished his meal – it really had been good – Matt unfolded the bundle of cloth he'd also brought. That turned out to be a uniform like Matt's, but smaller. "Thought you might like some actual clothes to wear," Matt said. "One of our guys is good at doing alterations, so I had him do what he could with this. We sorta had to guesstimate – these things don't really come in kids' sizes." It was still way too big for him; the sleeves flopped over his hands and the pant legs dragged on the floor, but anything was better than walking around in either that shapeless and wrinkled hospital gown or the pajamas he'd been wearing when they'd pulled him out of the lake. The shoes were also too big for him, but they solved that with an extra pair of socks. Lance had to fight not to fidget as Matt rolled up the over-long sleeves and pants...all of a sudden he couldn't _wait _to get out of this room. Matt saw it and chuckled. "Okay, all right," he said humorously, giving a last tug to one of Lance's sleeves. "I guess you're as presentable as we're ever going to make you. You think you can stay put long enough for me to get you a wheelchair?"

Lance shook his head. "I don't want one. I want to walk."

"Lance..."

"I can do it," Lance insisted. _I have to, _he added inwardly, but didn't say it aloud.

Matt didn't look too convinced, but after a moment he nodded slowly. "Okay, but if you get tired you tell me, got it? I don't want you wearing yourself out trying to keep up a good front." Lance nodded in agreement, and they set off.

The _Tarrant _was a big ship, as it turned out, and it wasn't long before Lance almost wished he _had_ taken Matt up on his offer of a wheelchair. They were walking slowly so Lance's shorter legs could keep up, but he'd spent over two days in bed and he still felt kind of wobbly. Matt didn't scold him, even though it looked like he wanted to, but he did stop every so often to point out something interesting about the ship – the officers' quarters down that hall, the navigation tech who had just walked by them, how many tons of steel had gone to create the _Tarrant._ After a while Lance's natural resilience came back and walking got much easier, so that by the time they reached the bridge he was almost perfectly steady.

The bridge of the Alliance cruiser _Tarrant_ was like nothing Lance had ever seen. It was huge, for one thing – it must have taken up the entire front end of the ship – and there were displays and flashing lights everywhere. He'd expected to see windows at the front, but there was just an expanse of blank metal. There were seats at all of the various consoles, but a lot of them were empty. "Where are all the people?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"We only need a small crew while we're not in realspace – basically, just enough to make sure we don't crash into anything," Matt replied. "Come on, the pilot's this way."

The pilot turned out to be a woman with short brown hair, frowning thoughtfully at an instrument panel. She looked up as Matt approached, smiling as she saw the small figure beside him. "Hey, Matt," she greeted him casually. "So this is our little visitor?"

"Yep. Kells, this is Lance McClain. Lance, this is Corporal Kelly Sorvin. Best pilot in the galaxy."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, you big goof," Kelly replied, then extended a hand to Lance. "Hi there, Lance. Welcome to the bridge of the _Tarrant_." Lance shook her hand, liking the way she didn't talk down to him, or worse, start cooing over him the way women sometimes did over little kids. "So what brings you two up here?"

"Lance was curious about how all this intergalactic travel stuff works, so I figured I'd let him talk to the expert," Matt said.

"Hmm. Okay, then. Have a seat, Lance – " she indicated an empty chair at the console to her left " – and I'll do my best. What did you want to know?"

Matt had to help him a little because the seat wasn't sized for a kid; his feet dangled a few inches off the floor, making him aware of just how small he was in this big, big place. But once he was settled the questions poured out of him. "Why doesn't it feel like we're moving? Are we going really fast? Why aren't there any windows? How can you tell where you're going if you can't see anything?"

Kelly laughed. "Whoa, whoa, one thing at a time!" she protested humorously, holding up her hands in surrender. "Wow, Matt, when you said he was 'curious', you weren't kidding." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and thought a moment. "All right, let's see how I can describe this so it's simple."

Lance frowned slightly. "I'm a kid. I'm not stupid," he said with just the tiniest touch of belligerence.

"Actually, I was thinking more about Matt," Kelly replied, her hazel eyes twinkling. "Man knows his way around the infirmary blindfolded, but ask him to think about actual science and he goes into a meltdown."

Matt pretended to scowl at her. "You know, technically I _am_ your superior officer."

Kelly waved that off. "Yeah-huh. _I_ can fly this ship. _You_ can't. Chew on _that_, Superior Officer."

"I'll remember this the next time you wind up in my infirmary," Matt retorted, but Lance could tell he was trying really hard not to smile. "Anyway, you're supposed to be answering Lance's questions, not defaming me."

"Yeah, but this is more fun." She glanced over and chuckled as she saw Lance trying his best not to squirm with impatience and not doing a very good job of it. "Okay, _okay_, little guy. Oh, to be that young and enthusiastic again." Kelly settled back in her seat and steepled her fingers. "So here's how this works. The _Tarrant _has what's called a 'skip drive'. What that does is it punches a hole in reality and sends us into another kind of space where we can go really fast without hitting anything; right now we're going several thousand light-years an hour. But in order to build up that kind of speed, we have to jump back into and out of realspace every so often at what's called a 'breach zone' – basically just a safe place to jump in and out where we won't crash into stuff. You can tell when we do that because the ship kind of jolts a bit."

Lance tilted his head, considering that. "But how can you tell where you're going? There's no windows or anything – how come you don't get lost?"

"Oh, we've got windows." Kelly gestured toward the metal panels at the front of the bridge. "The thing is, when you're in extradimensional space you can't really see anything, so we put protective panels over all the viewports and rely on the navigator and our instruments. Let me show you." She punched a command into her console and one of the monitors came to life. Lance craned his neck to see, then blinked in surprise at the jumbled, twisting mess of colors and patterns on the screen. He frowned at Kelly, who raised her eyebrows with a wry smile. "Yep, that's really what you'd see if you could see outside right now. It's enough to give anyone a headache, so we generally don't bother looking. And the reason it doesn't feel like we're moving is that's just how extradimensional space works. We can't use weapons while we're extradimensional, either; it has its own set of weird rules. Somebody _way _more scientific than me could probably explain them to you, but I'm not sure any of us could understand it. As long as I know enough to fly this thing, that's all I need."

Lance's eyes widened. "You fly this whole big ship all by yourself?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes I let the autopilot take over, but it's mostly me."

"She's modest, too," Matt interjected. Kelly rolled her eyes at him.

"I'll bet you've been to lots of other planets," Lance said a bit wistfully.

"Oh, yeah. That's what an Alliance pilot does, especially now. And every world's different, even when the people look just like us. Like this one time, when we went to Actos III..."

Lance could have stayed on the bridge all day, surrounded by so many interesting things and listening to Kelly talk about the wonders of traveling among the stars. She'd just started to tell him about a planet where the people had six eyes when a shout rang out. "Commander on the bridge!"

Commander Ellison strode toward them, a tiny frown appearing between his eyebrows as he took in the small group: Matt and Kelly standing at attention and looking faintly guilty, Lance still sitting in his chair and staring at the commander as if daring him to say something. "I see you've been entertaining our young guest, Corporal Sorvin," he said coolly.

Kelly swallowed, just slightly. "Yes, sir. He wanted to know how extradimensional travel worked."

"Hmm." The commander's gaze switched to Matt. "Sergeant Hansen, would you and Master McClain come with me, please?" He didn't even look to see if they would obey, just turned and walked off.

Matt helped Lance down from his seat, shaking his head warningly as Lance opened his mouth to jump to Kelly's defense. Lance bit back his objections, settling for directing a baleful glower at the commander's ramrod-straight back as they followed in his wake. They wound up in the commander's office, but instead of taking a seat behind the huge desk Commander Ellison stood in front of it. "You can go, Sergeant," he said after a couple of seconds.

"Sir?"

"I'd like to speak with Master McClain alone," the commander explained patiently, although it was clear from his tone that he expected to be obeyed. "And I'm quite sure there are things in the infirmary that could use your attention. Now, if you will excuse us...?" Matt didn't look happy about it, but he left; Lance wanted to protest but decided he wasn't going to show any weakness in front of this man he so disliked. A wary, distrustful silence filled the room.

Commander Ellison studied the small figure before him for a long moment – feet planted, shoulders squared, dark amber eyes glaring defiance. Then he did something _really_ weird...he actually _smiled._ Somehow that unnerved Lance more than the usual cold disdain...it was like watching a dangerous animal decide it wanted to be friends. "You really don't like me, do you, son?" the commander asked, sounding faintly amused.

There was probably a nice way to answer that question. Lance didn't feel like being nice. "No," he declared baldly. "And don't call me 'son'. I'm not your son," he added, his jaw set.

"Well, you seemed to have rediscovered your backbone. Long past time, too," the commander said. "And since we're being honest with each other, you've probably guessed that I'm not too happy about having you here either."

"I didn't ask to come here," Lance muttered.

"No, of course you didn't. But the fact remains that you _are_ here, that none of your people survived to take care of you, and because of that I'm responsible for you until you leave this ship. That would be a problem under the best of circumstances; in wartime, it's a liability. My people need to be focused on their jobs, not on a child. At any rate, it's time you understood where you stand now. You said earlier that you didn't have any relatives outside of Valkan VI that you knew of. Is that still the case?"

Lance hesitated, trying to think, but he already knew the answer. His family had pretty much been just his parents and siblings, and they had all been on Valkan VI; if he _did_ have any family anywhere else, Mama and Papa had never told him. "Yes," he said finally.

"All right, then. I've contacted Alliance officials regarding the destruction of the Valkan VI colony, and informed them that you were the only survivor. Because you're an undocumented minor with no surviving family, you're now under Alliance guardianship."

Lance frowned. The commander sure liked to use big words; Lance was positive he was doing it on purpose. "What's a un...docoo...?" he demanded.

"Undocumented minor. That means you're underage and even though you're a citizen of Earth, we don't have any records of who you are," Commander Ellison explained as if Lance was slow, which made his scowl deepen. "Once we reach Earth, you'll be assigned a formal guardian, and from there you'll go into either foster care or a group home depending on which is available. And you can stop glaring at me like that, young man," he added impatiently. "It won't change anything. Besides, it's a waste of time; I'm not the one you should be hating. Have you ever heard of the Drule Supremacy?"

_Drule._ There was that word again, the one he'd overheard his first night on the ship. Lance shook his head.

"No, I don't suppose you have," the commander said. "Without going into too much detail, the Drule Supremacy is made up of nine separate kingdoms, some in this galaxy, some not. Each has its own territory, and each is constantly seeking to acquire more. It was the Fourth Kingdom that carried out the strikes against your people."

Lance blinked. "Why?" he whispered.

"To make a point. The Alliance has been in a war with the Fourth Kingdom for years. We've finally managed to get the upper hand against them, but they're not ones to take defeat gracefully. The strikes on your colony were their way of letting us know that we _haven't _completely beaten them, that they're only pulling back because _they_ want to. Telling us not to push our luck, essentially."

"But...we didn't do anything to them," Lance protested.

"You were Alliance," the commander shrugged. "That was enough."

Lance had managed to distract himself for a while with Kelly's fascinating stories of space travel; it kept him from thinking too much about what had happened and why he was where he was. But he didn't have that distraction now, and the horror of it all hit him head-on. It was bad enough that his village – his whole _world_ – had been destroyed so completely. But to know that there wasn't even a _reason_ for it...to know that that deadly fire had rained down on his home and the people he loved and that everything he'd ever known had been wiped out for _nothing_...it was just too much to bear. He wanted to scream until his voice gave out. He wanted to curl into a ball right there on the floor and cry until there weren't any more tears left. He wanted to hit this cold, hateful man who told him such awful things and call him words he'd heard Papa's friends say when they thought the children couldn't hear, words Mama and Papa both had told him never ever to use because they were Very Bad Words.

But he didn't do any of that. Instead he pulled all those feelings deep inside and squashed them into a tiny, tiny ball, then shoved that ball into the deepest, darkest corner of himself that he could manage. It left him feeling hollow and empty, as if his insides had been replaced by a gaping black nothingness...but it also left him standing. He looked up at Commander Ellison. "Why can't you stop them?" he asked, in a hard, quiet voice that didn't even sound like his own.

Something a lot like surprise flickered across the commander's face – this obviously wasn't the reaction he'd expected. "We're trying, son," he replied, and for once he actually sounded tired. Lance didn't even bother correcting him about the "son" thing – it wasn't important now. "It's why we're in a war with them. The problem is that the Drules are about as powerful as we are, and it's not as easy as just telling them to go home and behave. They're not interested in playing by our rules, and until they are things like this will just keep happening."

"Will it ever stop?"

That brought a very, very faint smile. "Maybe if all the Drules were gone," Commander Ellison said wearily. "But I don't see that happening in my lifetime, or even yours." He glanced at the chrono on his wrist. "Now come along. I should return you to Sergeant Hansen before he starts thinking I've done away with you." He headed for the door; Lance followed wordlessly, thinking about all he'd learned.

_The __Drule__ Supremacy._ They had done this to him, to his family. They had sent that hail of flame and death down on his people. They had destroyed an entire world simply because they _could_.

Something changed in Lance at that moment. Part of him still wanted to mourn for everything he'd lost, to give in to the pain and loneliness and cry like the child he still was. But he knew it wouldn't help; all the tears in the galaxy couldn't bring back the ones who'd perished in that rain of fire. So he shoved the tears into that dark, deep corner with the rest of it, buried them as far down as he could.

He'd thought that would make him feel cold, but it didn't. Instead he felt fire kindle within him, fire that grew until it burned steady and hot. Fire that would burn for the rest of his life. No, he wouldn't mourn those he'd lost...he'd _avenge_ them. There was still an emptiness inside him, but it didn't matter.

He knew who his enemy was. He would make the Drule Supremacy pay for what they had taken from him. He would burn them the same way they had burned him and his world. And he wouldn't stop until every single one of them had been punished.

No matter what it took.


	4. Chapter Three: Arrivals and Departures

**Crusader: Fireborn**

By Icewyche

* * *

><p><em>[Insert witty author's note here.]<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Arrivals and Departures<strong>

Lance was sitting on his bed reading; ever since his talk with Commander Ellison, he'd been trying to find out everything he could about Earth, the Galaxy Alliance, the Drule Supremacy, and the Rift War. The ship didn't have much about that and most of it was either boring or confusing – it hadn't really been written for somebody his age – but he slogged through it anyway. He wanted to be as ready as he could for whatever lay ahead of him.

The _Tarrant_ had made its last jump yesterday at something Matt called the Sol breach zone and was now cruising through Earth's solar system on the final leg of its journey home. It had been weird to suddenly feel the ship moving beneath him, but Lance had adjusted quickly; now he barely even noticed it. More important, at least from his point of view, the exit into realspace had meant that the _Tarrant_'s protective shutters had been lifted and he could see out of the viewports. His first glimpse of space had left him both awed and a little unnerved by its vastness and serenity; it was hard not to feel tiny and fragile when you were surrounded by something so infinite.

Of course, reading wasn't the only thing Lance had done over the past few days. He hadn't realized just how big the _Tarrant_ really was, or that it was full of lots of people who did lots of interesting and different things. There was the dining hall crew (they hated the word "mess"), who kept asking him what he thought about new recipes they were trying – their excuse was that the crew was too used to the stuff they cooked and they wanted a fresh perspective. Lance knew they were just trying to get him to eat more, but if it made them happy then he didn't mind playing along. He'd met the navigation crew, who'd showed him how they plotted out where the ship was supposed to go; it involved lots of really complicated math. He didn't mind math, but he didn't think he could ever be a navigator. Plus there was something just a little bit..._weird_ about them; Matt said it was an "occupational hazard", whatever that was. He hadn't been allowed to go into the engine room itself – Commander Ellison would have had a fit – but the engineers had been more than happy to talk to him...one of them had even asked if they could keep Lance since he was the only person who showed any interest in all the neat stuff they did. There were gunners to keep the ship safe from attack, medics to keep the crew well, communications officers who made sure they could talk to other people and planets... the _Tarrant_ was almost like a flying village itself. And they'd all welcomed him with open arms...all except for their commander. For somebody who was supposed to be Lance's "guardian" on the ship, Commander Ellison seemed awfully determined to avoid him. Not that Lance minded; he was way happier spending time with Matt. But it was still strange, and finally he asked Matt about it.

Matt sighed. "Don't be too hard on him, Lance. The commander's been doing this for a long time, longer than anyone on this ship. The problem with that is that it means he's seen a lot of bad things along the way. You know how it was for you, seeing what happened to your village; now imagine seeing that over and over again on different worlds for years and not being able to stop it for good. It's rough, buddy."

Lance hadn't considered that. The commander _had_ said they were at war with the Drules, but "war" was still kind of a hazy concept for Lance; all he knew was that it was a bad thing that involved a lot of fighting. The thought that Valkan VI wasn't the first world the Drules had destroyed, that this had happened before to other worlds, to other people...Lance couldn't bring himself to think too much about that. It was hard enough to completely grasp what had happened to his own world. "But – why does he hate _me _for it?"

"He doesn't hate you," Matt reassured him. "It's just...if I had to take a guess, I'd say you remind him of all the lives he _couldn't_ save, not just on Valkan VI but on all the other planets that the Drules hit. That's a heavy burden to have to carry around. This is just how he copes – he keeps his distance, tries not to get involved. Some people are like that. I've seen people who drank or messed with drugs or did all kinds of crazy things to try and dull the pain from this war; I can't honestly say the commander doesn't have the right idea."

"You don't really like him, though," Lance observed shrewdly.

Matt chuckled. "Are you sure you're only eight?" he replied, a bit chagrined. "No, I can't really say I _like _Commander Ellison, but I do _respect _him. A lot. He may not be the best _person_ in the universe, but he's one of the best commanders around. Keeping his crew safe and protecting Alliance worlds is what matters most to him, not racking up battle commendations or medals. I respect him a great deal for that, and so should you." That conversation had given Lance a lot to think about. He still didn't like Commander Ellison and he probably never would, but...he could _understand_ him. That was something, at least.

A knock on the door brought his head up. "Hey, buddy," Matt said. He sounded excited. "Come on, you've gotta see this!"

Lance put the book aside – it had been really dull anyway. "What is it?"

"We're in sight of Earth now – I thought you might like to see it before landing prep starts and things get crazy. It's quite a sight."

Matt's enthusiasm was catching, and Lance clambered off the bed and followed him to the forward observation deck. Matt pointed at an object in the distance. "There, see that? There it is!"

A small blue-and-white orb glowed softly against the black backdrop of space; Lance could have covered it with his hand. He stretched up as tall as he could, trying to see more, and was surprised when Matt picked him up under the arms and helped him to stand on the railing. "I can see it," he protested mildly.

Matt grinned. "Yeah, but now you can see it _better_." Lance decided not to argue with that, instead gazing at the distant planet in fascination. He'd seen a couple of other planets as they'd made their way through the solar system, and of course he'd seen pictures of Earth in books, but none of it had really come close to what he saw now. Even from this distance, the planet looked _alive_, almost as if it was lit from within. "It's _pretty_," he murmured, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, it's really something, isn't it?" Matt replied. "Gets to me every time I see it, and you'd think I'd be used to it by now. I love traveling the galaxy and all, but there's still nothing quite like coming home."

_Home._ This was Matt's home. And soon it would be his, too...whether he wanted it or not.

It was something Lance had tried not to think too much about, but now he didn't have a choice. The sight of the approaching world made him realize that his time on the _Tarrant_ was almost over. Soon they'd be on Earth; soon he'd have to say goodbye to Matt and Kelly and Rick and all the other people he'd met here and be handed over to strangers who would decide his life for him. He didn't exactly _want_ to stay on the ship – especially not with Commander Ellison – but at least it had become familiar. He wouldn't have _anything_ familiar on Earth.

Matt noticed his sad expression and set him gently on his feet. "Hey...you all right?"

Lance wanted to say yes, to try and keep up the strong facade, but he found he just couldn't – there was too much unknown stuff looming ahead of him. But at least this was Matt talking to him; Matt understood that beneath the bravado Lance was still a scared little kid, and that was okay. "When we get to Earth...what's going to happen to me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Honestly, I don't really know, buddy," Matt said. "I mean, that'll be up to the people in charge of your case. Look, don't worry," he added, wrapping an arm around the boy. "There's good people in the Alliance, and they'll take care of you."

"It won't be my home," Lance murmured unhappily.

"No, it won't. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy on Earth," Matt replied. "Sometimes we lose our homes, but we can make new ones. You'll always remember your first home and your family, but you also owe it to them to go forward with your own life, to build something new and be happy. That's the best way to honor them, Lance."

Lance looked up, his expression hardening. "I don't want to 'honor' them," he said darkly. "I want to get revenge for them."

Matt drew back slightly, looking troubled. "Lance..."

"I mean it. Someday I'm going to kill _all_ the Drules, or at least all the ones that I can. I'm going to stop them from ruining people's lives. I'm going to make sure they _never_ do this to anybody else!" His voice was rising, but Lance didn't care. _Honor_ wouldn't bring back his family or any of the other people who had died on Valkan VI. And while he knew that revenge wouldn't either, at least it would prevent a tragedy like his from happening to other innocent people.

"Whoa...easy there, bud. Easy." Matt crouched down so that he and Lance were face to face and laid a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Look, I know you're angry at the Drules, and God knows you've got every right to be. But you can't focus so much on that anger that that's all you know. If you do that, it takes over your entire life. You don't want to let that happen, trust me."

"Why not?"

"Because then the Drules have won." Lance stared, shocked, as Matt went on, "We have an old, old saying on Earth...'Living well is the best revenge.' You want to know the best way to get revenge on the people who did this to you? Live your life. Grow up to make a difference in the world – a _good_ difference. Show them that they couldn't break you, that you're stronger and better than they are. The Drules went to Valkan VI meaning to wipe out everything and everyone, but they failed in a big way – they didn't get _you_."

"They got everybody else, though," Lance replied, his brown eyes flashing angrily.

"But they Didn't. Get. You. An eight-year-old boy, and you were smart enough to survive a Drule assault. You think _that__'__s_ not revenge? Just by being here, you're showing the world that the Drules can fail. That they _did_ fail. Heck, I know _I__'__d_ be embarrassed if a kid outsmarted me like that. I'm not saying you should forget, Lance," Matt went on. "Don't _ever_ forget what happened to you, to your people. But don't let it destroy you, either. Don't give them that control over you."

Lance considered that for a minute. Part of him knew that Matt was right; how many times had he heard Mama and Papa say that staying angry at somebody meant they controlled your life? Besides, he was just a kid, and the war was almost over anyway – by the time he was old enough to take on the Drules, there probably wouldn't even _be _any fighting. He didn't even know exactly which Drules had destroyed his homeworld, so how could he really expect to get revenge against them? It made sense, it really did, but...it wasn't enough. Not when he could still see the fire that had rained death and devastation on his world. Not when he could still feel its heat scorching him, could still hear his people screaming as they burned and died. Not when his home was nothing but ashes, when he still burned with anger and hate and the need to make the Drules pay for what they had done. "I don't know," was all he could manage.

Matt seemed to know what he was thinking. "Look, I know this is all a lot to think about," he said. "This whole thing is still fresh for you, and it hurts a lot. You're gonna need to heal and sort everything out, and that's just going to have to come in time. But trust me...it won't hurt like this forever, it really won't. It will get easier, and you'll be able to have a happy life like you deserve. I don't expect you to change your mind right away, Lance. But just promise me you'll think about what I've said, okay? Will you do that for me?"

Yes, Lance decided. He would think about it. It was the least he could do for Matt, after everything Matt had done for him. He didn't know if he would ever be able to let go of his hate, but for his friend's sake he would at least try. "I promise," he replied solemnly, and Matt fought back a smile as he got to his feet.

"Thanks, buddy. I feel much better now," he said with an utterly serious expression, and Lance couldn't help a small giggle. Matt grinned at him in return. "Okay, that's enough serious talk for one day – we're missing some great views here. Ready?" Lance nodded, and Matt swung him back up onto the railing.

* * *

><p>The arrival on Earth happened too quickly. Lance would have liked to watch from the bridge, but there really wouldn't have been any room for him and Matt there and he didn't want to get in anyone's way. So after the <em>Tarrant<em> had made it safely into the atmosphere, they went to the observation deck. Matt had brought along a small folding stool for Lance to stand on, so Lance was able to see everything as the ship approached the landing site.

And what an "everything" it was. At first all he saw was just a random patchwork of brown and green and blue and white. They moved through a fog of clouds, and the patchwork became oceans and landmasses. As they got closer he could see the uneven roll of mountains, the flat expanse of plains, green stretches of forest. Rivers cut blue lines through the land; lakes dotted it like blobs of paint. Closer still, and cities began to appear, big sprawling masses of silver and gray and brown and white. Lance saw buildings that looked like toys and vehicles moving between them like ants. Then they were at the landing site, which was a lot of concrete and fences and low-slung buildings and lots of water in the distance. There were people with big flashlights on the tarmac waving them down; the _Tarrant_ descended, there was a slight bump, and movement stopped. Lance could hear the whine of the engines slowing as they began to shut down.

Matt smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Well, here we are. Welcome to Earth, Lance."

* * *

><p>They couldn't leave the ship right away, of course; there was a whole lot of other stuff that everyone had to do, so Matt and Lance headed back to the infirmary. Commander Ellison had already said that the people who were going to be taking charge of Lance would be coming onto the <em>Tarrant<em>; nothing to do but wait, then. They'd already packed up Lance's meager belongings, which consisted of another altered uniform and the pajamas he'd worn the night of the attack, carefully cleaned so that they bore no reminders of that awful night. Matt had also given him a small piece of stone from Valkan VI; he'd gone down to the surface with one of the teams while Lance had been lost in his fog of grief. "This way you'll always have a part of your home with you," Matt had explained. Of all the kindnesses Lance had been shown on this trip, that had been the only one that had actually made him cry.

As they waited for whoever was coming, Lance found himself oddly restless. He perched on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs as he looked around the tiny room that had been his for the past two weeks, trying to memorize every detail. Matt saw his fidgeting and sat down next to him. "It's gonna be okay, Lance."

"What if...what if the Alliance people don't like me?" Lance asked in a small voice. "What if nobody likes me here?"

"What? Come on, of course they're going to like you. Everybody on the ship liked you, didn't they? Except for the commander," Matt amended quickly as Lance shot him a look. "But he doesn't count."

"It's his ship," Lance argued.

Matt shrugged. "So? We outnumber him." He bent close and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And you didn't hear this from me, but...he's just weird anyway." A reluctant smile curved Lance's lips; Matt smiled in return, but there was a sadness to it. "Come here, buddy," he said quietly, sliding an arm around Lance's shoulders and drawing the boy close. Lance huddled against him, and they sat there in silence until someone knocked on the door.

Matt got to his feet as Commander Ellison entered the room followed by a woman. "At ease, Sergeant," the commander said. "This is Lieutenant Ruth Archer from Child Services. Lieutenant Archer, this is Sergeant Matthew Hansen; he's been caring for Master McClain since the Valkan VI attack."

Matt gave the woman a respectful nod. "Ma'am."

"Sergeant," Lieutenant Archer replied, returning the nod with a small smile. Then she turned her attention to Lance, who'd remained obstinately seated. "And this must be Lance...McClain?"

Lance had been eyeing the newcomer as the adults exchanged greetings. She _looked_ friendly at least, he thought. Lieutenant Archer was a bit on the stocky side, with dark skin and deep brown eyes that smiled along with the rest of her face. But Lance saw a tiredness around those eyes; he had a feeling she'd done this a lot of times before. Maybe too many. Over her shoulder he saw Matt widen his eyes just a bit and make the tiniest movement of his head..._Oh. Right._ Lance got to his feet. "Yes, ma'am," he said, lifting his chin.

The lieutenant's smile warmed and she extended a hand which Lance politely shook. "It's nice to meet you, Lance. Welcome to Earth. I've been assigned to be your caseworker and help you get settled here, so you and I will be seeing a lot of each other. I know this has been a rough time for you, but rest assured that we're going to do everything we can to help you."

"Well then, I suppose that completes my duties," Commander Ellison said briskly. "You're officially in the custody of Alliance Child Services. Good luck to you, son."

Lance wasn't about to let him have the last word. "Don't call me 'son'," he retorted. The commander glowered, then simply turned on his heel and left. It was a small victory, but in light of everything else going on it felt pretty darned good.

Lieutenant Archer raised her eyebrows in amusement, and Matt seemed to be trying to hold back laughter. "Oh, Lance," he said after a moment. "I'm gonna miss you, little guy."

"He's a feisty one, isn't he?" Lieutenant Archer observed dryly.

"You have no idea," Matt replied with a proud grin.

Lance looked from one to the other of them and suddenly it hit him like a blow – this was really it, he was _leaving. _The trip was over; he was on Earth, where he was going to live for who knew how long, and it was time to say goodbye to his friend. A friend he didn't know if he'd ever see again. He flailed for something to say. "Will...will you tell Kelly and everybody I said..." The word _goodbye _stuck in his throat and he couldn't make it come out.

"I will, buddy. I promise."

"Are you ready to go, Lance?" Lieutenant Archer asked.

Lance looked up at Matt with a stricken expression. No. No, he wasn't ready. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words.

Matt saw his hesitation, and he knelt down and looked the boy straight in the eye. "Lance, whatever happens, I know you can handle it. Heck, you even stood up to Commander Ellison, and he scares just about _everybody._" Lance giggled in spite of himself. "Attaboy. You keep that spirit, you hear me? Don't _ever_ lose it," Matt said. "You're a survivor in more ways than one. You're going to be okay, I know you are, and you're going to make your people and all of us proud."

Lance nodded, his throat tight and achy. "Thank you," he finally managed to say. "For...everything."

Matt smiled, but his eyes were strangely bright. "It was my pleasure, buddy. Keep in touch if you can, okay? I want to be sure you're doing all right."

"Sergeant Hansen?" It was Lieutenant Archer, and her voice was gently apologetic but firm. "We really do need to be going now – there's a lot to do to get Lance settled."

"Right." He turned back to Lance, who was trying his hardest to hold back tears. "Well, this is it, Lance. Your new life is waiting for you. Make it a good one, all right?" Lance nodded again, not able to talk at all now. He started to hold out a hand to Matt to shake, then impulsively threw his arms around his friend's neck and held on tight. Matt hugged him back just as tightly, but eventually they both had to let go. Matt stood up, wiping quickly at his eyes. "Okay. Good luck, Lance."

"You too," Lance whispered. Then there was nothing more to say; time to go. Lieutenant Archer laid a hand on his back and led him through the door, where they both halted in astonishment. What looked like the entire crew of the _Tarrant_ was lined up on both sides of the corridor, waiting to say goodbye to Lance. It was really hard not to cry as one person after another ruffled his hair, shook his hand, patted his shoulder, or just offered a smile and a "Good luck."

Kelly was the last one, waiting for them in the loading bay; she knelt down and hugged Lance, saying, "Good luck, little guy. Maybe someday you'll fly your own big ship, huh?" The thought made Lance smile just a little...him flying a huge ship like this one? "Hold still a minute," Kelly went on, attaching something to Lance's shirt. He looked down and saw a pin shaped like a pair of wings with a shield in the middle. "My first wings," Kelly said when Lance looked at her in surprise. "Got them when I was only 16. I wanted you to have something to remember us all by; wear those until you earn your own, okay? Who knows – maybe you'll even be as good as me," she teased.

Lance lifted his chin. "I'll be _better,_" he said firmly.

Kelly laughed. "I'll just bet you will," she replied. Her smile turned just a little sad and she laid a hand against Lance's cheek. "Oh, you are going to be such a heartbreaker when you grow up. Come here and give me another hug, okay?" Lance flung his arms around her without any hesitation, and only a quiet cough from Lieutenant Archer made him reluctantly let go. Kelly shot an amused glance at the woman. "All right, all right," she said wryly. "See? Eight years old and you've already got women fighting over you. Lord help us all when you're legal." Lance couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up even though he wasn't completely sure what she meant. Kelly grinned and gently tapped her knuckles against his chin. "You're going to do just fine, Lance. We're all rooting for you." Lance's eyes misted, but Kelly shook her head. "Nope. None of that. There's a whole big world out there, and I'll bet it's never seen anything like you. Go get 'em, kid. Make us proud."

"I will," Lance promised, straightening his shoulders. Kelly nodded in approval as she rose to her feet and stood aside. Her eyes met those of Lieutenant Archer in an intense stare. "You take good care of him," she said quietly.

"We will," the lieutenant replied just as quietly. Kelly nodded, gave Lance one last smile and a wink and then strode away. Lance stared after her until she turned a corner and was lost to view; he was pretty sure he hadn't imagined the tears in her eyes. Lieutenant Archer smiled sympathetically but only said, "Well, let's go see that big world, hmm?" They headed for the boarding hatch, Lance only half paying attention. His mind was still on the friends he was leaving behind...he missed them already. He stepped onto the ramp without thinking...and immediately flinched back with a small cry of pain, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes as he walked straight into a wall of brilliant light.

Lieutenant Archer immediately crouched down beside him. "Lance? Honey, what's the matter?"

Lance couldn't answer her, not right away. He hadn't seen sunlight in two weeks, but even on Valkan VI it hadn't been anything like _this_. It was so _bright!_ It blazed off concrete, metal, tarmac, and glass, stabbing his eyes, making them burn and water. He blinked furiously behind the shelter of his fingers, trying to get his vision to clear.

The lieutenant's arms went around him and she started to pick him up, but Lance squirmed free. "No!" No, he wasn't going to be carried around like a baby. If he had to do this, if he had to live on this strange planet far from his home where everything was bright and loud and he didn't know anyone, then he was going to walk onto it on his own two feet. He lowered his hands, scowling in determination as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. When he could see, he stepped onto the ramp again and walked down it. He hesitated for just a second when he reached the bottom, then took his first step onto Earth ground...onto his new home.

The ground felt solid and stable beneath his feet. Now that he'd gotten used to the sunlight, he realized that it felt...warm. Welcoming. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. He tilted his face up, enjoying the new but still familiar warmth, and a tiny smile curved his lips. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all. This wasn't Valkan VI, it wasn't his sun, it wasn't home, but...maybe it really wouldn't be so bad.

Lieutenant Ruth Archer watched Lance in bemusement. She'd seen a lot of Rift War orphans when they came to Earth for the first time – too many, really. Some of them clung to her as they took their first steps onto a new world, fearful of what lay ahead. Some of them stumbled in a daze of grief. Some of them cried. A heartbreaking few screamed and struggled, knowing that everything familiar to them was gone forever. But none of them had ever stepped forward as bravely as this wiry little boy in an altered uniform that was still much too big for him. None of them had _ever_ walked forward alone.

Lance turned slightly to look at her over his shoulder, a question in his big brown eyes. The sunlight glowed off his auburn hair, turning it to living flame, and Lieutenant Archer caught her breath. For just a moment it was as if she saw _two_ Lance McClains. The child was still there, but superimposed over him was the ghostly image of a man, tall and strong and determined. She didn't really believe in premonitions, but she couldn't shake the sense that she was seeing into the future...seeing the man Lance would someday be. She shook her head slightly and the ghost vanished, leaving the boy standing there watching her with curiosity and a bit of impatience. Mentally chiding herself for her own foolishness, the lieutenant hurried down the ramp to join her charge.

They walked across the tarmac to the waiting car, Lance's dark eyes taking in everything and everyone around him, Lieutenant Archer continuing to watch Lance. As they got into the car and drove away from the spaceport, the pilot's words echoed in her head..._There's a whole big world out there, and I'll bet it's never seen anything like you._

She had a feeling Corporal Sorvin didn't know just how right she was.


	5. Chapter Four: Stranger In a Strange Land

**Crusader: Fireborn**

**By Icewyche**

* * *

><p><em>A.N.: Yes, it's been a while. I blame Snarktron Force and the Twitter RP. ;-)<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Stranger in a Strange Land<strong>

Light filtered through Lance's closed eyelids, dragging him out of sleep. He grumbled drowsily and buried his face in his pillow to shut it out, but he could still feel its warmth on his hair. He raised his head reluctantly, blinking against the brightness; for a moment he wondered where he was, and then he remembered. He was on Earth. He was at his new...home.

Lance sat up and looked around him. He'd been so worn out last night that he hadn't really noticed much about this place. His arrival on Earth hadn't been as simple as just picking him up and bringing him here...there had been paperwork, they'd had to check his fingerprints and picture to make sure he was who the _Tarrant_ said he was, he'd had to see a doctor to make sure he wasn't sick (which he thought was really stupid since he'd been living in the _Tarrant'_s infirmary for two weeks and Matt had already made sure he was okay), and there had been even _more_ paperwork before Miss Ruth - she told him all "her kids" called her that - had been able to load him into the car for the trip to the Alliance orphanage called the LaSalle School. By the time they'd arrived at the plain brick building and been ushered into an equally plain living room, the long, exhausting day had started to catch up to him and it had been all he could do to keep his eyes open. He had a vague memory of sitting on a couch as the grownups talked, and an even vaguer one of being carried upstairs, but that was it.

The room was...plain, that was the only word he could think of. Small with whitish walls, just big enough for two beds, two desks with drawers, two closets, one window right by his bed. There was somebody in the other bed, although all Lance could really see was a lump of blankets topped with a tousled mop of brown hair. But just for a moment, it reminded him of... He pushed the thought away and turned to look out the window.

His room overlooked a big grassy yard with gray concrete paths running through it. A red brick building right across the yard faced his, and if he turned his head he could just see two more buildings just like it, one on either side of the yard. There were a few low, spiky plants along the sides of the buildings and some of the weirdest trees he'd ever seen, tall with slightly curving trunks that looked like they were covered in overlapping plates of bark. They didn't have any branches that he could see, but were topped by a burst of long, flat leaves that reminded Lance of knife blades. He couldn't climb on _these _trees, that was for sure.

The thought brought a sudden, fierce wave of homesickness with it, making him feel like he had a soccer ball stuck in his throat. He wanted to hide under the covers and cry his heart out, but he didn't. Instead he shoved the sadness down the same way he had on the _Tarrant_, focusing on his anger at the monsters who had put him here in the first place. The Drule Supremacy had done this to him...when he'd wiped them out, then he could be sad, but not before.

He looked out at the yard again to distract himself and realized that there was something..._weird _about it. It took a moment, but he finally realized that it was just too _neat._ The yard was a perfect square, and the paths were so straight they could have been drawn with a ruler. The plants were growing with the same amount of distance between each one, and even the strange trees looked as if they'd been put exactly where they were on purpose. He'd never seen anything like it before. Miss Ruth had told him yesterday that he was in a place called "Florida" – was all of Florida like this, so tidy and perfect? But the back of his neck was prickling – it felt like he was being _watched_…

He turned his head suddenly and found himself staring into a pair of yellow-green eyes only about a foot from his face. Lance yelped and reflexively jerked backwards, almost falling off the bed. The other boy _did_ tumble backwards, but recovered and scrambled onto his own bed where he crouched against the headboard, teeth slightly bared in a snarl. "Hurryew?" he growled.

Lance blinked. The words sounded like they should make sense, but he couldn't quite understand them. He looked at the other boy and realized…_he's not human._ It wasn't the first time he'd ever seen a non-human, of course – there had been a few on Valkan VI, mainly merchants or the occasional worker from off-planet, and the Tarrant had had more than one on the crew – but he'd never seen one like this boy. He could probably pass for human if you didn't look too closely, but the tanned features were just a little too sharp, the eyes just a little too big and with a sort of glow to them, like a cat's. "Um…hi," Lance said.

This brought more glaring and more bared teeth, teeth that even from a distance looked sharp and ready to bite. "Hurryew?" the boy demanded again, and Lance wondered if his new roommate was going to pounce on him and eat him on his first day here – that would be bad. But just as he was wondering if it would be a good idea to yell for help, something clicked. _Who are you?_ "Uh…I'm Lance. Who are you?"

The boy continued to glower, but he seemed to relax just the tiniest bit. "Umeeunn."

_What?_ How was he supposed to share a room with somebody he couldn't even understand? "I, um, I don't…"

"Umeeunn," the boy repeated. When Lance just kept staring blankly, he pointed at himself and said, more emphatically, "Eeunn."

_Ohhh._ "Hi, Eeunn," Lance said. Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door and a woman he'd never seen before walked into the room. Everything about her was hard edges, from her tightly pulled-back blonde hair to her sharp features, and she wore a uniform so crisp and stiff-looking he wondered how she could even move. "Good, you're awake," was the first thing she said, in a voice as crisp as her uniform. "You need to get cleaned up and dressed – we have a lot to do today. You're supposed to start classes tomorrow and you're nowhere near ready." Taken aback, Lance could only sit there blinking at her. Classes? Things to do? What did she mean?

The woman placed a neatly-folded bundle on the bed and eyed him critically. "Hmm…you're smaller than I expected. This won't fit too well, but we can fix that when you get the rest of your uniforms." Lance just stared, and the blonde woman stared back at him impatiently. "Let's go, son, we don't have all day." Before Lance could even bristle at "son", she'd turned to the occupant of the other bed. "That goes for you too, Iain. You've been here long enough to know the schedule, you should be ready by now. You're setting a bad example for your new roommate."

Iain scowled. "Donwanim."

The woman sighed – it sounded like she'd heard this before. "Well, it's not really up to you, now is it?" she replied wearily. "And please speak clearly, we both know you can. Have you two been introduced yet?"

"Kind of," Lance muttered, stung – he didn't need a translator to figure out what "donwanim" meant.

The woman shook her head. "Iain, this is Lance McClain. He's from Valkan VI. Lance, this is Iain Razi, from Alharos III. Iain's been here about a month now; he can help you find your way around. But right now you need to get ready – Lieutenant Archer will be here soon. I've brought you a uniform, the rest of your things are in the drawer there, and Iain will show you where the showers and all are. Come on, boys, let's go."

Iain bared his teeth again. "Don't. Want. Him."

Lance clenched his fists. "Well, I don't want _you _either," he shot back, meeting Iain's glare with one of his own. He would have said more, but to his surprise the other boy flinched and looked away, then climbed off his bed and began to gather his clothes from the other closet. Lance looked to the uniformed woman, puzzled by this sudden change, but she just raised her eyebrows and tapped her watch.

Later, his hair still damp from a hasty shower and dressed in a uniform that had obviously been made for somebody a little bigger, Lance followed the woman he'd privately named Miss Sharp downstairs, Iain trudging sullenly in their wake. He tried to look around as they went, but Miss Sharp walked fast and it was pretty clear that she expected them to keep up. Lance wondered how he was ever going to find his way back to his room.

Miss Sharp led them to a set of big double doors; Lance could already hear the buzz of voices. "This is the boys' refectory, where our students have their meals; the girls have their own building. The rest of your class is already here but for Iain," Miss Sharp explained. "Starting tomorrow you'll be expected to muster with the rest of them at 0700. The headmaster will give you your schedule today along with a map so you'll know where you have to be and when. Now come along, both of you." She pushed open the doors and a wave of noise rolled out, so startling that Lance actually took a step back.

The room was huge, filled with more boys than Lance had ever seen in his life, boys of all sizes and colors, all of them speaking at once so the sounds blended into a jumbly roar. He couldn't tell if he was hearing one language or a hundred. They sat at long tables laid out in precise rows, and as Miss Sharp led him and Iain into the room it seemed that one by one they all looked up...right at him. They were all wearing uniforms like his and Iain's, although he noticed that some groups wore patches of different colors. It made him very aware of his own ill-fitting outfit, but rather than shrink from the scrutiny Lance squared his thin shoulders and lifted his chin, keeping his eyes on his guide. She led them to a pair of empty chairs at a table full of boys who looked to be about his own age; they took their seats and the meal began.

It had to be the most uncomfortable meal of Lance's life. No one really spoke to him, but he could feel the weight of their curious gazes. Meanwhile his new roommate kept his head down, focusing on his food as if it were the only thing in the room with him. It was a strange feeling...surrounded by people and yet completely alone.

Much to Lance's relief a bell finally shrilled, breaking the tension around the table. The other boys got up with their trays and fell into line; after a confused second Lance did the same, even though he had no idea where they were going or what he was supposed to be doing. He was saved from what could have been a very awkward moment by Miss Sharp. "Not you, Lance," she said, drawing him aside. "Captain Sharma is in a meeting, so you'll see him later this afternoon, but you still need to get your uniforms and then Lieutenant Archer will take you out for the rest of the things you'll need. Come on, there's a lot to get done today."

Their first stop was with someone Miss Sharp called the school's quartermaster, a stern-faced man who took one look at Lance in the too-big uniform and shook his head. He hustled Lance into a smaller room and measured him from neck to foot, making notes. When it was done he vanished back into a big room full of shelves, returning a few minutes later with an armful of folded clothes. Lance eyed them unhappily – they were so dull and boring, but it wasn't like he had a choice, was it? They said goodbye to the quartermaster and returned to Lance's room to put his new uniforms away, then went back downstairs to the main office, where Lance was relieved to see Miss Ruth waiting for him…finally, somebody familiar and friendly. He could barely sit still long enough for the grownups to talk; when they were done he would have bolted for Miss Ruth's car if he knew where it was. But eventually they were in the car and Miss Ruth's aide was driving them away from the school – it was just as plain and boring from the outside as he'd thought.

Lance stared out the window as the car moved along, eager for a look at his new surroundings. He'd never seen any place like this! There were houses, lots and lots of houses, but they didn't look like the houses he'd known. They all looked alike, right down to the doors and windows – boring white and beige boxes, each with its own little square of green grass in front, set in rows as neat and ruler-perfect as the paths back at the school. He wondered how the people who lived in them could tell which house was theirs. Then the scenery began to change, becoming more crowded and colorful with what Miss Ruth told him were shops and fueling stations and bars, although why some of them had pictures of girls wearing tiny outfits was beyond him. There was something comforting about it all, though, knowing that even in this strange place called Florida people did the same things they did – _had done_ – back home.

He was so fascinated by the new scenery that it was almost a disappointment when the car finally stopped, but the disappointment faded quickly when he realized that they were in front of the biggest building he had ever seen in his _life_. It was _huge!_ "Miss Ruth, what's this?" he asked, not sure if he should be worried or not.

"This is the mall, Lance," Miss Ruth said. "You didn't have these on Valkan VI?" Lance shook his head, still staring. "Well, it's basically a really big marketplace, all under one roof. It'll make it easy for us to get everything you're going to need without having to travel all over the place."

Lance relaxed – he knew what a marketplace was, he'd just never seen one this big before. Earth really _was_ a different place.

They went inside into what Miss Ruth told him was a "department store". Lance was used to the markets back home, but they seemed tiny now compared to this huge, noisy, brightly-lit place crammed with more stuff than he'd ever seen before. Miss Ruth took charge though, steering him to the part of the store that had boys' clothes. "You'll be wearing uniforms at school, of course, but you'll need something to wear on weekends or when you go out," she told him. Soon they'd picked out several outfits for him, along with pajamas, underwear, socks, a belt, and some plain white shirts Miss Ruth told him were to wear with his uniforms. Then came shoes – a stiff black pair for school, running shoes for sports, and bedroom slippers. Towels, washcloths, shampoo, soap, toothpaste, even a brush and comb were added to their cart. They got school supplies too – notebooks, pencils and pens, paper – and it all made Lance very aware of just how much he'd lost; he wondered how many of the other boys came here with practically nothing. At one point he thought he saw Miss Ruth whisper something to her aide, but he wasn't sure.

After everything was bagged up and paid for, Miss Ruth sent the bags back to the car with the aide and took Lance out into what she said was the "mall proper". It reminded Lance of the market square back home, only indoors and much noisier and more colorful. There were people everywhere, some moving quickly, others taking their time, a few even looking confused, as if they'd wandered in by mistake and didn't know how to get out. There were stores just for men's clothes, women's clothes, shoes, jewelry, even furniture – one store sold nothing but candles, which was pretty silly. There was also a store belonging to somebody named Victoria; Lance wondered if she got embarrassed having her picture taken in her underwear.

They went up an escalator and past even more stores to something called a "food court". It reminded him a little of the refectory at the school, a big, brightly-lit space full of tables and people and noise. But that was the only thing they had in common – this place was colorful and cheerful and filled with so many new things he didn't know where to look first. There were big booths lining the walls, their names spelled out in glowing colored lights, showing huge pictures of food he'd never seen before and wasn't even sure he could pronounce. TV screens hung from the ceiling, showing everything from cartoons to a smiling woman cheerfully cutting up vegetables to a chubby man with white hair yelling and waving his arms as he scribbled on a big white board. There were even trees in here, which he thought was stupid – what good were trees indoors?

And just like in the rest of the mall there were people, people of every size, shape, and color. A young man in a baggy hooded shirt sat alone at one table, tapping furiously on a little screen. A group of girls sat at another, chattering and giggling as they smeared glittery stuff on their lips and fiddled with their hair. Little kids ran in circles and screeched in a small area in the back. A woman in a hat with an animal's face on it stood in front of a booth with a plateful of something on little sticks, offering some to everyone who passed. And there were families, moms and dads and kids sitting together eating happily…Lance had to look away from them because the hurt was still too raw.

Miss Ruth saw the change in his expression. "Why don't we sit over here?" she said gently, steering him to an empty table away from most of the crowd. "Any idea what you'd like for lunch?"

Lance pushed the hurt down and looked around again, carefully focusing on the colorful signs. There was so much to choose from! He had no idea what a "Burrito Triple XXL Grande!" was, but it looked weird so he dismissed that. One place had a sign for "Gyros," which confused him – he'd heard the mechanics on the _Tarrant_ talk about gyros, but the picture on the sign was of meat wrapped in some kind of flat bread and that didn't make any sense. He knew what chicken was, of course, but had no idea what it had to do with somebody named General Tso.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Miss Ruth smiled. "It's a lot to decide from, isn't it? We'll keep it simple – have you ever had a cheeseburger before?" Lance shook his head. "Okay, then. Wait here, and I'll be right back." She went over to a booth with a big red-and-yellow sign and came back a few minutes later with a tray, handing Lance a bag. He opened it to find a round thing wrapped in paper, a smaller bag filled with crispy yellow sticks, and a little plastic toy that looked like some sort of plane. The double cheeseburger was good, although the bright orange squares of "cheese" gave him a moment's pause – was cheese really that color here? The "fries" were delicious, though, and before he knew it he'd finished off not only the ones in his bag but also the ones in the second, bigger box that Miss Ruth handed him with a laugh. "Little boys and French fries," she chuckled. "Never fails. Eat your ice cream before it melts."

Finally he was full, and sat back on the metal chair with a small sigh. "That was good," he said. "Thank you, Miss Ruth."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, honey. So what do you think of your new school so far? Have you gotten to know any of the other boys yet?"

Lance shrugged. "Just my roommate, Iain. He's kinda weird."

Miss Ruth sighed. "I'm surprised they put you with Iain Razi, he's – well, he hasn't adjusted very well yet, and he's not too fond of roommates."

"You know him?"

"I've heard a lot about him. Iain's situation is much like yours – his village on Alharos III was decimated in a Drule attack. Iain's entire family was killed; he saw it happen and it left him understandably traumatized. To make things worse, none of the few who survived the attack were willing to take him in so he became a ward of the Alliance. Try to be patient with him, Lance…everyone deals with loss in their own way, and Iain isn't as strong as you are."

Lance eyed her skeptically. "He just better not bite me," he muttered, then hesitated. "Miss Ruth, all those boys there – are they all…like me?"

"You mean Rift War orphans?" Miss Ruth asked quietly. She sighed. "Most of them, yes. Their circumstances are all different, but all of them are there because they don't have anyone else who can take care of them."

The memory of breakfast came back to him – so many boys, and Miss Sharp had told him there were girls too. "There's…an awful lot of them."

"That's what war does, Lance. It destroys families and leaves a lot of bad things in its wake – that's why the Alliance tries so hard to stop it from happening. And we're making progress; the war is finally winding down. We can't change what's already happened, but we can make sure it doesn't happen again." Lance was pretty sure _he_ could think of a way to stop it from happening again, but he didn't say anything. Miss Ruth looked at her watch. "If you're finished eating, we'd best be heading back – you still have to meet Captain Sharma and get your schedule squared away. Ready to go?" Lance looked around one more time at this bright, confusing, crowded place, then reluctantly nodded and followed Miss Ruth back to the car.

"By the way, I have something for you," Miss Ruth said on the return drive. She handed him a big bag; curious, Lance opened it and found a bright red stuffed dog with floppy ears and a cheerful smile. "Everyone should have a cuddly friend, and this little guy looked like he was waiting for you. Do you like him?"

Lance's eyes stung and he couldn't talk for a moment. The clothes and all were nice, but he knew that she'd gotten those for him because she was supposed to, because they were things he needed. This, though...Miss Ruth had given him this _just because_. He swallowed hard and nodded, hugging the dog to him. "Thank you."

Miss Ruth smiled. "You're welcome. What are you going to call him?"

Lance considered that. What _did _he want to name his new friend? Rover didn't seem right; neither did Fido or Spot or Rex or any of the other things he'd heard people name their dogs. He studied the dog thoughtfully – its goofy smile made him want to smile too, and suddenly a name popped into his head. Some lady had said it while he and Miss Ruth were shopping; it wasn't a name he'd ever heard before today and he'd had to fight not to giggle at it because it just sounded so silly. "Eugene," he said. "His name's Eugene."

"That's a good name," Miss Ruth agreed. "I'm sure you and Eugene will take good care of one another." Lance smiled and hugged Eugene as he watched more of this new and fascinating Florida go by.

Miss Sharp was waiting for them when they arrived back at the school. The three of them carried his bags upstairs, and Miss Ruth gave him a hug and told him she'd check on him in a few days to see how he was doing. "I'll drop by the office and sign myself out, Maggie," she told Miss Sharp. "Lance, I want to hear good reports about you, okay?" Lance nodded, and he and Miss Sharp put everything neatly away with his new uniforms; he wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her smile just a little when he took Eugene out of his bag and set the red dog in a place of honor on the bed. Then it was time to finally go meet the headmaster.

The yard was full of boys as Lance and Miss Sharp walked over to the headmaster's building. "We encourage our boys to play sports after school," Miss Sharp explained. "It helps build confidence and teamwork, keeps them healthy, and it's a good way to let off extra energy." Some of the games looked familiar, others didn't, but Lance thought it looked like fun…until he saw a familiar figure on the outskirts of the yard.

Iain stood in the center of a small group of boys, and the way they surrounded him made it pretty clear they weren't friendly. "What's the matter, Fluffy?" one of them jeered. "Cat got your tongue?" Iain shrank back and the other boy gave him an impatient shove. "Come on, why don't you say something? Meow! Meow, meow, meow!" His two companions snickered and took up the sneering chant, jostling Iain as the smaller boy's yellowish eyes darted frantically around for some means of escape.

It didn't matter that he barely knew Iain, or that his roommate was rude and kind of strange, or even that Miss Sharp was trying to herd him to the headmaster's office – if there was one thing Lance hated besides Drules, it was bullies. He broke away from Miss Sharp and ran over to the small knot of boys. "Hey! Leave him alone."

The boy who'd shoved Iain turned around. "Who're you?"

"I'm his roommate," Lance replied. "He didn't do anything to you, so leave him alone."

The other boy was a little bit taller than Lance, probably older too, and he eyed Lance as if he were a bug. "He's weird and I don't like him," he stated. "And I don't like you, either. What are you gonna do about it?"

Lance clenched his fists. "Leave. Him. Alone."

The other two boys snickered as their leader looked Lance up and down. "Oh, yeah, I'm scared now," he smirked. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

Miss Sharp finally caught up to him. "All of you, stop this right now," she ordered. "Lance, come on. The Headmaster is waiting for you and we don't want to be late."

"But..." Lance protested, gesturing to Iain; no matter how weird the kid was, he couldn't just leave him to the mercy of these hyenas.

"No buts. The rest of you, break it up. Let's go, Lance."

"You heard her, _Lance_," the leader of the little gang mocked. "Run along and meet the Headmaster, little boy." To make his point, he gave Lance a push that made him stumble into Miss Sharp.

Lance saw red. Everything he'd been through until now – all the anger, the pain, the helplessness, the need to _hurt back_ – surged to the forefront, and before anyone could stop him he hurled himself at Iain's chief tormentor. Taken by surprise, the older boy tumbled to the ground trying to protect himself from the small fists furiously pummeling him. The other boys stood frozen for a moment, not quite sure what was going on before they too jumped in, and then Iain started howling at the top of his lungs.

It took four teachers to break up the melee.

* * *

><p>Captain Rajiv Sharma eyed the boy sitting across from him. The boy stared back, wary and watchful but – interestingly – not cowed or belligerent. His file told the story – only survivor of the massacre on Valkan VI, orphan with no family, taken from everything he knew and unceremoniously dumped on a strange world. Not much different from all the other boys at this school, really…and yet…<p>

It would have been easy to write Lance McClain off as a troublemaker – starting a fight on his first day certainly wasn't a point in his favor – but years of experience had taught Captain Sharma not to jump to such conclusions about the boys he oversaw. He'd seen this so many times before - angry, grieving, emotionally scarred children looking for a vengeance they had to know they'd never achieve. Most of them followed one of two paths: either they turned their aggression inwards and became dangerous to themselves, or they turned it outward and became dangerous to others. There wasn't much to be done with the former – the best they could hope for with that bunch was to keep them functional, and if that failed, hope they didn't take anyone else with them.

The latter group was more of a challenge – they could also go one of two ways. Some became bullies, thugs, blunt instruments eager to inflict pain on whoever was unlucky enough to be in the way. They could be useful when pointed in the right direction, but they required a firm hand and a short leash and collateral damage was almost a given. Or...or they could be molded, trained, taught to focus their rage. These were the most dangerous of all – given the right training and just enough of a push when they needed it, they became a finely-honed weapon aimed right at the enemy. The question, Captain Sharma thought, was, which one was this boy?

"Tell me, Lance McClain," he said abruptly. "What do you hope to accomplish – to do with yourself? What do you want to do most in life?"

The sullenness quickly vanished; dark eyes flashed fire. "I want to kill all the Drules," the boy said, with an intensity that caught Captain Sharma off guard for a moment. "I want to make them pay for what they did to my home. And I won't stop until they've _all _been punished."

_Well, then_. That answered _that_. Granted the boy was still very young, but..._yes_. "And what would you say if I told you I can help you do that?"

Lance blinked at the Captain. Wasn't he supposed to be saying that hating the Drules was a bad thing, like all the other grownups had done? "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

"Lance, you seem to be a bright young man. I'm sure you've noticed that this is more than just an orphanage. We're also a military school, and we can train you to be a soldier, to take on the Drules...if that's what you want, of course."

"And what if I don't?"

The Captain shrugged. "We might be able to send you to another school, or perhaps a foster family could become available that would be willing to take you. Both are a long shot, though; the system is stretched entirely too thin as it is. And since you have to be here, at least for now, why not make it worthwhile? Why not learn all you can and then decide what you want to do with that knowledge? You might surprise even yourself."

Lance thought about that. Part of him wanted out of here, out of this place full of hard edges and bullies and crazy cat-boys who screamed a lot. But he thought back to the scene at breakfast...all those boys, boys who Miss Ruth had said were orphans just like him. If there wasn't anywhere else for them, what chance did _he _have? Not to mention that if he left, he might never get a shot at the Drules, and then they'd just go on hurting other people. There would be more worlds burning, more orphans...more like Iain...more like him. But if he stayed...if he stayed he could _learn_. They could teach him what he needed to know, and then one day...one day he would stop the Drules for good. One day he'd have his revenge – and _nothing _could stop him.

Captain Sharma watched the emotions flicker over the boy's face, wondering what was going on behind those flashing dark eyes. On some level he supposed he should feel some guilt for teaching these boys – these _children_ – to be soldiers, but what else was there for them? Why not give them the chance at payback that so many of them wanted? _What kind of weapon will _you _be, Lance McClain?_

He wasn't surprised when Lance's jaw firmed and the boy looked right back at him. "If I stay here, I can stop the Drules someday?"

_Tread carefully here_…"You'd certainly have more of a chance here than you would elsewhere," Captain Sharma replied. "But you have to understand that behavior like you showed today will not be tolerated, and starting a fight on your first day doesn't help you any. This is a military school, Lance – we value discipline, not hooliganism."

Lance frowned. "What's hoolaganuzzum?"

"It means doing things like starting fights."

"But they started it," Lance protested. "They were making fun of Iain."

Captain Sharma fixed him with a stern look. "That doesn't matter. You won't get anywhere if you think with your fists instead of your brain – the Alliance doesn't have much use for people like that." Which wasn't _entirely_ true, but no need to explain that to an eight-year-old boy. "You're going to find that a lot of what you get out of life depends on the effort you're willing to put into it. If you want to take on the Drules someday, you're going to have to learn everything you can, _including_ discipline, because they aren't going to sit around waiting for you to come get them. They're smart – you have to be smarter."

Something dark and dangerous flashed across that young face. "They're monsters," Lance said flatly. "They're nothing but monsters, and I hate them. _All_ of them."

"They may be monsters, but they're smart monsters," Captain Sharma told him. "Why do you think they've been able to do all the damage they've done? And you won't accomplish anything by just throwing yourself at them once you're old enough. Now. We can forget what happened today, start fresh. We can train you and teach you what you need to know, but it will be by our rules. So I ask you again, Lance McClain: what do you hope to do with yourself? And are you willing to work and learn for it?"

There was a brief, mutinous tightening around the boy's mouth – oh, this one was going to be a handful, wasn't he? – and then Lance nodded. "Yes."

Captain Sharma lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, what?"

"Yes…sir."

"Better." The Captain sat back and steepled his fingers. "All right, then – let's begin where we should have. Welcome to the LaSalle School. This is your class schedule…"

* * *

><p>Lance's days soon settled into a routine. Wake up at dawn to a blaring alarm, get cleaned up and dressed and hurry to the dining hall for breakfast. After that he and the other kids were separated into their units and herded across the yard – they called it the "quad" for some reason – to the school for hours of lessons, the tedium of which was broken only by lunch and recess. When the school day was over, they had two hours for sports or studying followed by dinner, and the few hours until lights-out were their own.<p>

Lance threw himself into it. Not because he was all that crazy about school – although he wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination and actually enjoyed learning – but because every day, every boring lesson brought him that much closer to what he really wanted...the chance to make the Drules pay for what they'd done to him. If that meant learning to be a soldier before he was even nine, then that's what he'd do.

Of course, that didn't mean he'd necessarily do it _their _way.


End file.
